As the Crow Flies
by Kaytilu
Summary: Yuugi runs a race. Post-Millenium World


_((__**Note:**__ I wrote a shorter version very similar to this several years ago while I ran track myself, but due to my severely bad luck, my old account was hacked, and I was forced to abandon it. I wasn't planning on rewriting it, but I was inspired by one of __**Auster**__'s drabbles. (If you haven't read her _Alphabet of Puzzleshipping_, you should. It's really great!) So some credit goes to her for inspiring me. Credit for the title of this story goes to a song of the same name by Thrice. If you haven't heard them… well, go listen to them! :D_

_That said, enjoy! Please review and fill my ego with nice words!))_

"As the Crow Flies"  
By KatieLou Who

-

…_time slides by at a snail's patient pace…_

-

Twitching fingers; racing mind; a band of butterflies builds a nest beneath his ribcage. Yuugi Mutou hops in the air, trying to coax some heat into his eager muscles. One hundred meters away, the finish line looms, the dull yellow ribbon calling him seductively from his lane.

Around him, fellow competitors mill impatiently to and fro, a nervous rainbow of brightly-colored uniforms. _We look like drug addicts_, Yuugi thinks with amusement, _Like heroin junkies dying for a drug run_.

-

…_perhaps that is the meaning of runner's high…_

-

"Good luck Yuug!" Jonouchi calls. Twenty yards away Jonouchi, Anzu, Honda, and Ji-chan cheer and wave frantically before hurrying towards the finish line end of the bleachers. Yuugi smiles nervously, but does not allow a verbal response to scrape from his dry tongue.

"Runners, to your mark," a stern voice, mechanized by a gleaming red electric megaphone, announces with an absurd degree of professionalism. Yuugi takes his place in the fifth lane, stretching his calves carefully before placing the spiked soles of his racing flats into his starting block.

Around him, athletes glance covertly at Yuugi while they stretch their muscles; as the occupant of the fifth lane, he is the predicted winner, _the one to beat_. He tries to ignore their stares as best as he can, but he cannot shake off the pressure that their eyes produce. Their nervous smiles glint predatorily, as if they would like nothing better than to tear into his flesh.

After a deep breath, Yuugi freezes, coiled tightly against the gleaming silver starting block like an Egyptian asp ready to strike.

-

…_time stands still… but then—_

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_BANG_!

The dusty old pistol goes off, and Yuugi soars from his coils, long gone before the loose tendrils of smoke can twist laconically from the tip of the gun.

Yuugi flies down the track, his racing spikes gripping the supple maroon rubber, launching him further into the air. The world drowns in the winds that lash at his face as if they seek to keep him from the coveted length of yellow ribbon towards which he leaps like a hunted gazelle.

-

…_am i flying? i… i think i am flying!…_

-

To his right, a flash of emerald green obstructs his peripheral vision; a competitor, breathing in sparse, controlled puffs, creeps in front of him slowly as they barrel nearer to the finish line.

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…_NO…_

-

In a burst of pure adrenaline, Yuugi pushes forward. He feels his muscles protest faintly. _Just a little further_, he cajoles them inwardly. He wants to be the one to feel the weight of the ribbon press against his body like a gentle lover.

Beside him, his green-clad enemy succeeds in matching the spurt of energy. The green boy wants it too.

-

_...but i want it more…_

-

The finish line careens closer, _closer_, _CLOSER_… Yuugi's lungs feel as if they are about the burst from his chest… He pushes himself further, stretching himself beyond his limits….

As the welcome pressure of the yellow ribbon pushes gently against his hips, the cheers of the crowd return in an explosion of ear-splitting roars. Yuugi coasts to a thankful stop, his breath tearing from his body in ragged gasps.

At the edge of the bleachers, his friends leap in the air with excitement. "Way to go, Yuug!" Jonouchi shouts gleefully before letting out another whoop. Yuugi allows himself to smile.

_Yami would have been proud_, he thinks with satisfaction as he retrieves his warm-ups from his coach, who waves his stopwatch frantically, brimming with joy. "Great job, Mutou," he says. "At this rate, the school record will be yours."

Yuugi's smile widens.

-

…_yes, Yami would have been proud…_

-

_((Yeah, the ending is kinda clichéd. Sue me. I'm considering turning this into a chaptered fic, but I wanted feedback first. Should I do it? If I did, would you read it? You tell me! Suggestions will be appreciated as well.))_


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